Character Excerpts
by FellTactician
Summary: A peek into the lives of the Royal Families of the Fates world.
_Xander_

"Milord."

That was Xander's only warning that someone had entered his study, not even daring to knock on the thick metal doors, and if they did, Xander had not heard it. Xander looked up from the letter that he was writing, letting a drop of ink fall from the quill onto the parchment below, and Xander hoped that for the sake of whomever was in his study that this was important.

He turned the upper half of his body to face the intruder of his study, his face morphing into a stone cold mask that sends fear into the hearts of many who look into his eyes, but he instantly feels it soften at the sight of his retainer, Laslow, standing at attention just inside of the door.

"Ah, Laslow. I had feared that I would have to scare off another servant." He tried to use a little humor to lighten the tension that had sprung up over the span of a second, but that only seemed to put his retainer on edge. "At ease. You have good news, I hope?"

Laslow's mouth is a thin line, no sign of his usual jovial smile, and Xander knows that his servant has not come to deliver good news.

"Milord… as much as it pains me to say…. there is no good news. Quite the opposite, actually."

"Continue."

Laslow lets out a sigh, deep and heavy and filled with what sounds like sorrow, and he raises a gloved hand to his hair, carding his long, calloused fingers through his dark navy colored hair. "I have come to deliver a report from the front lines. Or more specifically… From the Woods of the Forlorn."

Xander feels his blood chill, feels the color beginning to drain from his already pale face, and he mentally prepare himself for the worst. The Woods of the Forlorn… that is the spot where Leo…

"One of His Highness' retainers has returned. Owa— Odin was the one to return."

Xander decides to let Laslow's slip of the tongue slide, out of respect for his fellow retainer's privacy, and motions for his own servant to deliver the rest of the report.

"Neither Zero nor your brother has returned. And Odin… He…" Laslow begins to choke, his voice cracking.

"Speak, dammit! What has happened?!"

Laslow flinches, his eyes snapping wide open to stare at his Lord, and Xander feels regret for snapping at his best friend and most loyal servant.

"Forgive me, Laslow." Xander sighs, reaching a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Just speak. Get it all out."

"Odin brought back Brynhildr."

From behind his back, Laslow produces the tome in question. He steps forward to Xander's desk, extending the book out for Xander to take, but he can't move. He can't bring his arm to move and take the tome into his own hands, for fear of destroying what remains of the precious book. Laslow, seeing his master's hesitation, sets the book down on the desk, a thud resonating throughout the room as it leaves his hand.

"That is not the only thing that was retrieved."

From within the satchel on his hip, Laslow brings an object out that is wrapped in a handkerchief, the white cloth stained a blackish-red in many places. He sets it on the table as well, the object landing with a resounding metal clank, before stepping back to the doorway, fear settling in on his features as he takes in the look of despair on his master's face.

Xander, finally gaining the courage to do what needs to be done, reaches a trembling hand out to pick up one of the neatly folded corners of the kerchief and pulls it back, revealing something long, black, and vaguely in the shape of a hand…

 _Oh Gods…_ Xander lifts the rest of the cloth and watches in horror as an all too familiar gauntlet is laid out for him, covered in blackish-red stains of what he can only identify as blood… his baby brothers blood…

"Milo—"

"Leave me." Xander's order is not so much an order as it is a demand, though whether it is to spare his servant the sight of what is about to come, or if it is to strike fear in his retainers heart, he doesn't know. He just needs Laslow out of the room as quickly as possible, lest he severely injure him.

Xander turns back to his desk, stands, and reaches above his desk, grabbing the scabbard off of the wall. He places his hand on the hilt of Siegfried, pulls on the ancient weapon, and then drops the scabbard, the clank of metal hitting wood the only sound filling the room.

"But —"

Xander turns on his heel, pointing his blade straight at the poor boys heart, and screams unholy, righteous fury at him. Dark flames, once a beautiful, bright purple, now a dark black and red, engulf Siegfried. " ** _LEAVE ME!_** "

Laslow yelps, scrambles out of the room, and slams the door behind him.

Xander feels something deep inside of him. Something dark, something violent, something… _dangerous._ His blood feels like it's on fire, his head is pounding so much that it is giving him a migraine, his hands are shaking, and the flames from Siegfried are moving from the blade to his hand, engulfing his arm in dark black and red flames, burning through his white cotton shirt.

Xander swings. And swings. And swings. And he continues, the sword imbedding itself inside of his desk, in the wall, in his armor hanging on its rack next to his desk, and through the chair. Screams leave his mouth, unholy growls and groans and moans of agony and hate, rage and sadness filling the air like a cloud of poison, his breathing is uneven, actually, he's pretty sure that he's not even breathing right now.

There are flames everywhere. The smell of burnt flesh fills the room, mingling with the scent of burning cloth and wood, making him gag as soon as he takes a breath, dropping Siegfried as he collapses to his knees, his burnt hand not able to hold his weight while in its current condition, causing him to fall to his side in pain and agony.

Everything goes black…


End file.
